


Fulcrum

by paeryn



Series: A Voice in the Blood [1]
Category: Marvel 1602, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, X-Men (Comicverse), Young Avengers
Genre: Good at Boats, also Not So Good at Boats, tw: parental loss
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-17
Updated: 2013-10-16
Packaged: 2017-12-29 15:30:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1007046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paeryn/pseuds/paeryn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The mysteries of the past continue to unfold for a new generation of would-be heroes in the Marvel 1602 universe.  Hank and Janet Pym seek answers to their terrible plight, but at significant cost. Cassandra Lang makes a choice that may shatter the precarious balance of a world. Kate Bishop finds that not all surprises are to her liking.   Billy Kaplan has bad dreams.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Matter of Genesis

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [1602 Young Avengers Fanmix](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/29228) by AltheaK. 



> This story takes place on Earth-311, after the events of **_Marvel:1602_ , _Marvel 1602: New World_ , _Marvel 1602: Fantastic Four_ , **and **_Marvel 1602:Spider-Man_**. For those who only read some of these books, I try to loosely summarize the relevant details at hand. This tale is the first arc of a much, much larger epic story that grew out of my obsession for this universe as I was writing it. As usual, my ambition exceeded my grasp as far as the Reverse Big Bang was concerned. If this is well received, I’ll continue the larger story.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Henry Pym seeks out a living legend in the fog-enshrouded streets of Britain. What he discovers sets into motion a sequence of events that may well tip the balance of the world towards chaos.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise this will make sense soon.

**_Act I: A Matter of Genesis_ **

The moon that night was bright enough that the gas lanterns on the streets failed to do much besides throw shadows on the uneven stones of the streets they sought to light. Despite the near limitless miasma of the sickly meadow green fog that hung over London proper as the wind blew in from the factories that had so recently begun operation, the wharf area and the preponderance of public houses that dotted the harbor were relatively clear of both stench and fog, Hank Pym thought he could make out Orion in the heavens above him, forever hunting his celestial prey—much as he, himself, had tracked his prey to this wharf. Notoriety, much like fame, put your name on many lips--and sorting fact from rumor had taken he and Janet the better part of a week. If what he’d heard was true, however, the crew of the _Fantastick_ was once again on British soil and that meant Reed Richards might very well be beyond the door to the pub in front of him.

Above the arch of the doorway a carved stone head emerged from the brickwork, a disproportionately large face, masculine in features, made entirely out of oak leaves, with trails of ivy spilling out of its mouth and down around the door frame like a border. In daylight, it looked slightly ridiculous, but in the twilight glow of the wharf this evening it had a grotesque, menacing quality that Henry did his best to stamp down before it produced a shiver. His nerves needed to be firm this evening, if he was to gain Richards’ trust. Shaking his head briefly, he opened the door and was accosted to a room with exposed, darkly stained hardwood beams and several round tables mostly filled with the sort of folks you’d expect to find seaside—mercantile folk, eager to get off their feet after unloading their cargo from their long journeys and happy to find a warm spot and a pint to help lull them to sleep. 

At the far table sat Richards and a young man he could only hope was the Storm boy. He sidled up to the bar and had the barkeep send over two pints to the table. When they glanced his way, he raised his own as a show of goodwill. He turned back away from them to not appear overeager, and after a few moments turned again to glance their way. Both gentlemen were standing,Richards gathering his coat from his chair. Nervous of missing this fortuitous opportunity, Hank threw decorum to the wind and approached far too quickly.

“Leaving so soon? I was hoping I might have the pleas—”

“No signatures this evening, fellow. Sorry,” said Johnny brusquely, his blue eyes emanating little of his reputed good nature.

“No, you don’t understand,” Hank gasped out as he clumsily blocking their exit, “I need to speak to you. It’s about my wife.”

Johnny’s visage shifted into an alarmed panic, upon which Reed heaved a huge sigh. But when Hank’s eyes didn’t slide to Johnny after that admission, Richards’ disposition turned more to puzzlement than annoyance. “What, good sir, do you think I have to do with your wife? Also, I do not believe we are acquainted.”

“Pym, sir. Henry Pym, though most folks call me Hank. My wife’s Janet. And her problem is, well…delicate.” He lowered his voice, and attempted to gesture for them to sit back down so he might explain his desperation. Both Storm and Richards remained standing, however, forcing Hank to acknowledge that any belief he might’ve had that he could win them over easily was in real doubt. Resigned to standing, he leaned towards the two other gentlemen and lowered his voice further. “I was involved, against my will I should point out, in attempting to aid in the rehabilitation of a certain noble who had undergone unfortunate physical deformities. I was pressured into using some questionable substances in that pursuit…”

Richards interrupted him, a hardened knowing look passing over his craggy brow, “What sort of illicit substance?”

Gulping audibly, Hank continued,”My employer acquired Thunder Lizard embryonic fluid brought back from the New World to attempt his cure. Determined to make sure I hadn’t somehow poisoned the well, the noble injected my wife with my first attempt. She was…changed. Further experiments yielded wildly and horribly mutated results…”

Reed cut him off, “You’re speaking of Octavius, aren’t you? I’ve heard stories from reliable sources what a butcher that unfortunate was, and what he did to those under his thumb. Surely you’ll understand if I doubt your duress. While Peter Parquagh speaks rather highly of you, I’ve grown quite close to Hal McCoy over the last several years, and he paints a bit more of an unflattering picture of you and your part in Octavius’ mad designs.”

“I’m not proud of what I did under that man’s employ, Sir,” Hank admitted as he found his hands once again smoothing his hair away from his face. Janet had always preferred his hair long, regardless of fashion, and adjusting it in uncomfortable social situations had become a long standing habit to give him a moment to think. “Octavius had my Janet under his literal thumb, and there’s not much I wouldn’t do to guard her safety. Something I was hoping you might relate to, as well. In fact, I’ve pretty much devoted the rest of my life to trying to reverse what damage I can…starting with Janet.”

“What precisely happened to her?” 

“Well,” Hank once again gestured for them to sit, “it’d be easier to show you.” This time they acquiesced, though Storm still looked more than a bit put upon. Hank was grateful for the rather dimly lit corner Richards had chosen to sit in. He didn’t want to cause a ruckus with what he was about to do next—and Janet’s problem made it difficult to protect her in the case of a mob scene.

As they sat, Hank reached into an inner pocket of his coat and pulled out a glass cylinder dotted with small holes around its circumference, probably once used to display small butterflies as the nobles of the day seemed prone to do. Within that cylinder, however, was what appeared to be a somewhat ravishing woman no bigger than six or seven inches tall, with long, pointed diaphanous wings protruding from the center of her back that reminded Reed of something akin to the fusion of a wasp and a honeybee. Indeed, if he had been in the New World, or Bensaylum, and someone had told him the figure captured within was one of the fair folk of legend, he would’ve taken pause as to whether or not they spoke truth.

“My god, Pym…”

“I know. The miniaturization process was abrupt. I wasn’t even sure she’d survived at first. And she was stable at a larger size than this for quite a while…most of the time I served under Octavius she was about double the size she is now. But after Parquagh put an end to the Count and we fled north to try to find a cure, something came over Janet and she started growing smaller again. About a month ago, the wings began emerging from her back.” The urgency couldn’t be kept from his voice. He didn’t care how desperate he sounded at this point. If Reed Richards wasn’t intrigued by Janet’s crisis by now he wasn’t going to be—but there was no other plan. He needed Richards’ insight if he was to bridge the loss of all of his previous work and resources and arrive at a cure. 

“I’m not sure entirely what precipitated the secondary mutation. Almost all of my notes and most of my reagents were destroyed when the fiend’s compound was reduced to rubble. So you see, I was hoping you might have some suggestions, anything really, before I lose my wife completely. Before she shrinks, or transforms, so utterly that there’s nothing of her left.”

Richards and Storm both sat there in silence, staring at the marvel in the small glass container. Said marvel crossed her arms about her chest and gave both a stern look. Muffled, through the air holes that perforated the container, they heard a voice larger than the form trapped within might suggest. “Hank isn’t the only one who wants to remedy this situation, as you can imagine. I’d dearly love to be able to not spend my life the size of an insect, much less as part one. Surely you have something to offer?”

What followed was one of the most fascinating conversations of Henry Pym’s life, as he watched Reed Richards’ intellect become fully engaged with a problem new to him. He went over the reagents he’d used, and the man made him pause and break down each component into its smallest, base units until he fully grasped it in all detail before allowing Hank to move on. Janet interrupted more than once, correcting Hank or adding in crucial experiences that might’ve played a role in the creation of her current state. Being Hank’s lab assistant before Octavius’ betrayal, Janet had kept a keen eye on what Hank had been doing in the early days of the experiments.

A candlemark later Hank was sweating profusely, feeling more like an assailant being interrogated than a man seeking aid. By the time Richards stopped, Janet had grown quiet and looked ready to slumber and Storm was long gone, having gotten bored with the topic at hand hours earlier. The barkeep wasn’t looking friendlily at them, as they seemed to have become the only patrons of his establishment still remaining, minus the one drunk asleep in a table by the door.

“I sent my research assistant, Scott Lang, ahead of me a week ago to the wreckage of Octavius’ laboratories to search for anything that might have survived the conflagration and still be of use,” Hank continued. “I arrived an hour later, no more, but his horse was there and he was nowhere to be seen. I found much of the gear he’d taken with him still in the ruins. So there is a mystery there, as well. Sadly, his daughter is an orphan without Scott to look after her, so we’ve temporarily taken her under our wing. She’s asleep at our inn across the way.

Reed paused, almost hesitant to say whatever is coming next. “I’ve gone over the components you described, as well as the process you used to create your treatments in all their variations, and I can’t see what might’ve caused such a wide variance in results. The only thing, possibly, that comes to mind is that whatever genetic source—meaning the Thunder Lizard egg—you utilized for the early serum might’ve been contaminated or mutated in some way—and if that’s the case, then I’m afraid I’m not necessarily your best option to explore. Without Octavius’ resources, which you admitted were not entirely legitimate, obviously, you are going to have difficulty acquiring more Thunder Lizard eggs. Unless, of course, you get them directly yourself.”

“The New World?” Hank asked, shocked. “I have a small amount of fluid I managed to acquire in my lab up north. If you’re suggesting I head to the New World in an attempt to find the precise creature that gave birth to the egg that was used on her in the first place, that seems like a needle in a very large haystack.”

“Perhaps not,” Reed cautioned, ”and you may not need to be that specific. I’d imagine any direct descendent of the creature in question might contain whatever variant was present. And you wouldn’t, necessarily, be working alone. If you’re serious about trying to atone for what you did while assisting Octavius, there are…associates…in the New World that might be willing to help you. It won’t be easy on you, however. I’ve been in contact with Javier and his Witchbreed, and apparently McCoy returned to the fold after he was freed from Octavius’ grasp. Whether either would be willing to help you, of course, is another matter entirely. But between their own substantial intellect and Mccoy’s own explorations into the genesis of the Witchbreed, you might gain more insight than I can currently provide.”

“Assuming they would even be willing to broach the topic with me,” Hank parsed, “you’re suggesting a journey of months with both Janet in her current state as well as young Cassandra in tow.”

“Ever since my more recent experiences aboard the _Fantastick_ ,” Reed said with a somewhat wistful smile, “I’ve found it easier to be open to the preternatural and supernatural as possible solutions when the bulwark of my logic fails. Javier is due to make contact in a matter of days. I would be happy to inform him of your intentions. I cannot promise anything on his behalf, as you might imagine.”

“Of course, of course,” Hank swiftly said. The idea of heading to the New World was a heady one, and frought with difficulties. He had some small savings remaining, but the cost of travel for he and Cassandra alone, not to mention whatever equipment and supplies they might need seemed prohibitive. And yet, if Mccoy was willing to forgive him for the sake of Janet…

“The night is all but gone,” Reed said as he stood, “and I’m afraid we’ve overstayed our welcome. The good innkeeper may well take his broom to us if we don’t vacate his establishment. But if you wish to discuss this further, you can meet me at the White Tiger Club uptown, in the morning, say about 9. Things here in Britain are a bit untenable, and I don’t think we’ll be staying much longer. But I’d be happy to give you whatever letters of introduction that might smooth the way for your voyage. I can appreciate a man’s love of,” he glanced down at Janet, “science…as well as the need to stretch those frontiers.”

“That would be very kind,” said Hank, and extended a hand which was grasped firmly by the explorer before he made his exit. Henry gathered Janet in her glass prison and once again ensconced it inside his jacket and followed Richards into the night air. Dawn was coming soon, and lights were already flickering to life in the rented rooms along the dockside. Once back at their own room, Hank set Janet free and she lighted on the somewhat splintered window frame as she quickly resumed her slumber. He followed suit in the modest bed provided, not shortly after.

The next morning came quickly, the previous evening ending far closer to dawn than to supper time. Awaking and washing in the bin provided, Hank looked down at his side to see Janet grooming herself as best as she could in several small pools of water on the vanity. He averted his eyes by habit, and turned and dressed. Giving Janet a few moments to prepare for the day, he went next door and rapped softly on Cassandra’s door. He thought she might appreciate meeting a legend in the making—the adventures of the crew of the _Fantastick_ were growing in the telling. He knocked harder when his initial attempt garnered no response, and after a few moments he reluctantly opened the door. What he found was not what he expected. Instead of a young lady lazing as those in the throes of youth are often want to do come early light, her bed was stripped completely and the bedding had been stretched, torn, and tied together to form a crude rope that led out the window and down to not far above the dew-damp cobblestones of the street below. In their haste to catch Richards the evening before and their exhaustion afterwords, they had failed to check-in on their young ward and she’d clearly used that time unobserved to depart.

Hank rushed back to his room, and found Janet fluttering by the nightstand. “It appears our young charge has decided to go and do a bit of exploring.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I went to go wake Cassandra, and when she didn’t answer my repeated knocks I took a quick peek into the room. She’d stripped the bed and made some sort of makeshift chain out of the linens and rappelled out the window.” Hank sat down on the bed, clearly despondent. “I already failed her, Janet. Her father is missing, despite devoting what little resources we have at our disposal to finding him. Just like I failed you, like I failed everyone. We need to find her. This is a large city, and there’s no end to what sort of bad end that could come of a young woman unescorted—especially in these dodgier sections of town.” Janet rested a small hand on her beloved’s arm, a gesture that registered every so slightly with the larger man. 

“You go out and see what you can find,” Janet attempted to soothe Hank. “I’ll explore what I can around here. It isn’t every day a young woman climbs out a window using a rope made of bedding. Someone must’ve seen something.” 

Seeing the sense in her words, Hank left shortly and began searching in an ever-widening circle expanding outward from their inn. With little to show for it, he returned two hours later to find Janet in far more bouyant spirits. 

“I was just meandering about and made my way to the common room downstairs, and caught ear of a deckhand chatting with the barkeeper’s wife as she was cleaning up. He said he’d spotted someone creeping onto one of the larger ships docked at the harbor, and at first glance had assumed it was some lad trying to hide from his troubles. Bad news, that, if he was discovered by the Harbormaster or the authorities. But as he got closer, the wind blew the interloper’s hat clean off their head and into the bay, and he swore he saw long straw-colored hair fall down past their shoulders. He thought a young woman dressed in men’s trousers covertly trying to make their way onto a ship might be even more trouble than a lad—no end to the mischief that might befall her, or so he said.” 

“Did he say what ship, Janet? You’re brilliant,” Hank said, much more hopeful now that there was trail to follow. He’d have hugged her tightly, before. Now, all he could do was hope that his gaze demonstrated his admiration.

“I’m aware of my aptitude, Mr Pym,” Janet said smartly, but she was smiling. Janet continued, “The mistress of our lovely establishment asked him the same thing, out of concern for the girl if she was caught. Some captains wouldn’t take a stowaway as lightly as others—and some, if it was discovered she was a woman, well. Anyhow, the deckhand mentioned he was pretty sure it was the _Valkeryie_ in between slobbering some of those fried eggs onto his beard. Apparently it had pulled up not far from his own boat, and he’d chatted with some of the deckmen. According to what I could overhear, he seemed to think it was due to leave today, Hank.” 

“Dear lord,” Hank whispered, gathering his coat as he prepared to head down to the docks. “I need to stop that ship before Cassandra gets caught—or worse.”

Janet practically shooed him out of the room and Hank rushed to the docks. It took some time to find someone who could pinpoint just which of the large ships was the _Valkeryie_. When he finally found someone good natured enough to give him directions to its moorings, too much time had passed. That same cold feeling grabbed his guts as had the night before, when that foliate face had appeared full of menace in the cold stone of the inn that—ironically—was not too far away. When he arrived at the prescribed spot, all that remained of the vessel was the thick knotted ropes that had latched her to the docks. Spotting a shipsman in a nearby smaller schooner, he walked over to inquire if he’d been led astray.

“No, sir. _Valkeryie_ left right and early. Rest of us still getting our heads about us, but some folks won’t wait for no one.”

“What do you mean?”

“ _Valkeryie_ ’s bound for Virginia, carrying supplies, medicinals. Some colonists, or some as hope to be. Some lord arrived not long after dawn, had everyone scurrying about like rats. Kept throwing round the King’s name, bless him. Twasn’t the captain’s place to argue, really. Fellow had some writ from the King to get him to Roanoke quick as could be, and the man said he wouldn’t wait for any lollygaggers, so they set sail bout half an hour ago.”

Hank wasn’t watching the man speak, dried egg still caught in his beard. Instead, he was watching the waves in the water just a few steps away, draw ever closer to him and the shore before receding out to the fathomless sea that spread beyond the horizon. He thanked the fellow and found a small crate on the dock just a few paces away and sat for a moment, dazed. He took a deep breath. He and Janet would have to find Cassandra, of course. They’d have to search all of Greenwich before drawing any conclusions. Perhaps Richards would even be willing to assist, now that he was within the man’s confidence. And if his fear was realized and the young woman had remained on the _Valkeryie_ when it set sail, then perhaps this wasn’t another failure, but a greater opportunity. The hand of Providence, even, guiding his way towards restitution and reconciliation.

Searching the city would take too much time as it was. If she was bound to Virginia, Henry couldn’t wait to hear what Javier may or may not be willing to do on their behalf. They would have to leverage what they could and book passage on faith alone. Well, faith and whatever good will Richards could harness for them. And when they arrived, perhaps he could do what he could to make amends to McCoy and the others he’d harmed. And maybe, just maybe, find a cure for Janet…and for himself. His malady hadn’t been triggered once despite the tension he’d encountered in this endeavor. How much more stressful could a sea voyage really be? He stood up, taking a moment to check the watch he removed from his vest pocket. He should get back to Janet and break the unfortunate news of Cassandra’s plight to her. The search awaited them, and if it failed as he feared, it would it would seem they would be going to the New World, after all.  



	2. Over Oceans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Good at Boats

**_Act II: Over Oceans_ **

She was fairly certain her father would be scandalized if he saw her now, but for Katherine Bishop, pitching in to help with the rigging on the _H.M.S. Valkeryie_ was old hat. As it fled Greenwich and headed to open sea, the crew was more than happy to have a helping hand, especially one that had learned under their tutelage just a few years earlier. And though that Thorne fellow seemed to have decided that he was in charge of this expedition, it was her father’s money that had paid for the majority of the voyage. So if his daughter wanted to act out and learn something about the sea trade, they weren’t going to raise an eyebrow. Or if they were, it would be deep in their cups when said offending female would be equally deep in her beauty slumber.

The captain did his best to steer clear of her, after their last adventure together. It had been just after the strangeness with the weather that her father had sent her back to finishing school. She’d made some dear friends her first time with this company—friends that cared just as little as to her station as she did, and was willing to look the other way when one of her moods took her. She’d run into Mathieu at one of the few dockside inns in the colony, and he and Nicholas had fascinated her from the first moment of their chance meeting. Mathieu’s blond chiseled looks and the deliberately unshaven, dark brooding posture Nicholas assumed would’ve been enough for most. They both had tried to woo her, in their way, but once she made it clear that she had no plans to bed down with anyone, regardless of name or reputation, they didn’t entirely know how to act around her. 

During their long layover, she insisted that they treat her almost as another member of their crew, gruff humor and ribald talk included. Eventually, she wore them down and she brashly had them accompany her everywhere. It created all sorts of talk for weeks and mortified her sister, but Katherine had stopped caring years ago what others thought of her. And when her father had insisted on her returning to Britain to finish her schooling, well, it didn’t take much convincing to get him to hire Captain Marek and the _Valkeryie_ ’s crew. After all, they’d arrived in Roanoke under his contracted employ just three weeks earlier.

Now, just a few short years later, she’d written to him and asked for the same crew to escort her home to Roanoke—or rather Virginia, as it was now being called, due to the popularity of the albino girl and her blond native protector that had made such a splash at court. Father had always said she was impulsive, but her time away with only distant relations to restrain her had made her far more free-spirited—and she planned on making the most of the journey before she found herself once again under her father’s thumb. 

She almost hoped some brigands made a stab at boarding her ship—she’d brought her favorite set of arrows along with the bow she’d had commissioned. She’d been thrilled to discover archery societies had somehow sprung up as the summer drawing rooms of high society in her absence. She’d taken great pleasure in rising among the ranks of the women, probably because she cared more for the skill itself than the chance flirtation that the costumes and balls provided to so many. Not that she’d escaped them all. She found she could playact amongst the mindless and the self-serving with the best of them, slowly gathering information both for herself and her own goals as well as the interests of her father. Indeed, it was her success in the latter that had forced him to reassess her absence from his side.  



	3. Among the Shadows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our runaway attempts to give the runaround, and Katherine Bishop makes a fateful choice.

**_Act III: Among the Shadows_ **

All this was to say, no one batted an eye when Katherine Bishop decided upon rising and dining with Betrand, the ship’s Steward and cook, after the rest of crew had already changed and the mess was relatively empty. No one would’ve thought twice when she decided she’d go exploring through the ships hold, though Bertrand did caution her to be gentle. Some of the fabrics her father had shipped were sensitive to the ambient moisture and had been packed and their boxes sealed in wax for a reason. Fabric didn’t interest her, for the most part. She was exploring for explorations sake, mostly. She’d spent the first few days topside, getting reacclimated to the _Valkeryie_ and which of the crew were safe to approach and which to keep her distance. She kept a wide berth of the oarsmen. She could handle herself, but a mob was still a mob. However, she had much more serious concerns. She’d decided weeks earlier that her main mission was to steer as clear of Aaron Thorne as possible. Something about the man turned her stomach, as if it was filled with butterflies than in turn vomited butterflies. His arrogance and ambition was also far too transparent. 

While exploring the second hold, she thought she heard a rustle amidst the sound of sea knocking ever fervently outside the wooden walls. Creeping quietly closer to the source of the phantom noise, her foot slammed into one of the casques of bourbon jutting out from their racks in neat orderly rows the length of the hold. She let out little more than a puff of air before she choked back her cry of anguish but it was enough. She heard whatever it was skittering further back into the hold. It seemed larger now, the footfalls falling quickly together but loudly so. Perhaps it was some stray animal that had crawled aboard when it was docked in Greenwich—or worst case scenario, a large rat. Or worse, very large _rats_ , plural. 

Carefully watching her step in the gloom, she sidesteps around the feet of the racks holding the alcohol as she approached where she heard the sound stop. When she peers in between the barrels of wine marked as originating at her father’s favorite vineyard, she indeed spied a stray that had stumbled aboard—but it was not a rat. Instead, she barely made out a girl smeared from head to toe in the grime and dust of a ship where cleanliness has never been the highest of priorities. She was wearing a dark pair of men’s trousers with a ruffled shirt that might once have been white, open at the top where propriety would’ve had it buttoned to just below her chin. Her straw-blonde hair glinted in the small cracks of light from the deck above them, its rough braid reaching halfway down her back, though the front bangs had escaped and framed a face just a year or so younger than Katherine herself, if she had to guess. The girl didn’t look frightened at her exposure…she looks angry.

“You’re not Berty,” said a voice older than the girl’s face would have had Katherine guess.

“Berty,” Katherine pursed her lips, trying to wrap her lips around the affectionate nickname. A stickler for rules and order, she had been tempted years ago to win Bertrand over to her father’s direct employ. That he would allow anyone, let alone this stowaway, to use a term of such familiarity seemed utterly alien. “No, I’m not. Though I suppose he imagined I might find you here. Let’s get you up off that floor first, and then we’ll see as to what we’re to do with you.” 

She reached out her hand to the girl, and a strong grip met hers as they worked together to extricated her from the racks and barrels that sat adjacent to the hold’s walls. Once clear of the clutter they both seemed to take a moment and scrutinize the other. The young woman didn’t strive to right her appearance at all, which actually raised her estimation in Kate’s eyes. In a situation like this, that would’ve been the last thing she would’ve worried about either.

“I suppose you’re going to inform the captain he has a stowaway,” the young woman spat out bitterly.

“Perhaps give me the courtesy of your name before you intimate all of my future actions,” Katherine replied, trying to get the measure of the girl. She was not sure she would have taken the same approach, should their situation be reversed. One should attempt to mollify an adversary into alliance rather than antagonize them. Well, at least in an ideal situation. Sometimes conflict just couldn’t be helped. 

“Cassandra Lang,” the other replied in a much more demure tone. 

Good, Katherine thought. Not quite as dim I had feared. “I am Katherine Bishop. Now, with all the niceties out of the way, perhaps you could tell me how you ended up in the bowels of my ship headed across an ocean?”

“Your ship? Berty said Marek was captain.”

“Yes, yes. Alexander runs the ship, but my father organized this little expedition. He needed supplies and there were new hopeful colonists, so he thought he’d send for his daughter to come home and make some money at the same time. So in a way, I suppose, I’m entirely responsible for this vessel and everything in it.”

“That’s…a bit of a stretch, wouldn’t you say?”

“Perhaps,” Katherine granted, “but debating my facility with the mother tongue doesn’t get me closer to determining what I am to do with you.”

Cassandra sighed, “This is a long story, and I doubt you will believe me even half way through…”

“I grew up in a town where Thunder Lizards visited the town square,” Kate returned. “Let’s not assume the rigidity of my disbelief quite yet.”

Taking a deep breath, Cassandra began, “My father worked for a man, a scientist named Henry Pym.” She paused. If Katherine had heard of the man, she could skip the more incredible elements of her tale. The raven-haired woman gave nothing away, however, and Cassandra was forced to continue. 

“Dr. Pym was employed by a disgraced noble to help heal a rather strange deformity that descended upon him later in life. He used a variety of arcane ingredients as elements in his serums, many of which came from the New World. When things with his employer came to an untidy end, Dr. Pym and his wife had already been exposed to early formulations of the cure against their will. My father agreed to help them find a cure for the afflictions they suffered as a result, and moved us north to Scotland so that we might aid them in seclusion. After several months, my father was dispatched to inspect several of the noble’s laboratories, most of which were empty; last of which was the underground lair that had been destroyed in the final days of their employment. Dr Pym followed shortly afterwards, merely an hour if he’s to be believed, and found both my father’s notes as well as his supplies within the ruins, but my father was nowhere to be found.”

“He ran off?” Kate looked scandalized.

“His horse was still tied outside and there were no footprints nor sign of him anywhere. It was as if he had simply vanished.” Cassandra bit her lip at the end. 

“That’s…distressing,”Katherine said softly. She was certain this story wasn’t going to have a pleasant ending.

“We searched for months for him, to be fair. The Pyms took me in during the interim, as they devoted equal time to trying to find my father as well as resolving their own unfortunate circumstance.” The bitter tone crept back into Cassandra’s voice, however. “Eventually, they must’ve concluded that my father’s absence was an acceptable loss, because I found myself with them in a carriage on the way to Greenwich. They hoped to meet with an expert of some kind, someone who might be able to help them find a cure for their own condition.”

Kate stood there, shocked. She tried to imagine herself in that situation. Her bow and arrows came immediately to mind. “And they just expected you to forget your father and follow along?”

“I’m not of majority, and it was either their care or the orphanage. They weren’t unkind, just often forgetful. And _so_ remarkably self-absorbed. So several days later upon our arrival in Greenwich, I put my ear to the wall after they had seen me to bed and overheard their plans. They were about to meet this expert, as near as I could make out, and I heard mention of my father. Needless to say, I wasn’t about to not attend.” 

“You’d have been a fool if you hadn’t,” encouraged Katherine. Was that a smile playing at the corner of Cassandra’s mouth? 

“So as I waited for them to depart, I deconstructed my bedding and made a cord of the sheets, tied it to the bedpost and once they left the inn I flung the cord out the window and made my way to the street to follow them. Eventually they paused at an inn near the docks, not the most reputable of places,” Cassandra grimaced. “As I approached, I noticed a man passed out, intoxicated in an alley across the way. I’m ashamed to say that’s how I came by this debonair attire. After they had been inside a moment, I entered and presented myself as a gentleman. I purchased a flagon of wine and set myself up in a corner not far from their table and pretended to slowly drink myself into a stupor.”

“And what did you discover?” Katherine was captivated by the story. The girl was right, it was almost unbelievable. If she’d been raised in Britain she would’ve declared Cassandra mad and been done with her. But Roanoke was a place of wonder, and not all of it on the side of the angels. There might be truth to the tale, yet.

“That apparently there is yet another expert in the New World they were going to consult. That the doctor’s wife’s condition was growing graver than I realized. And something that remained unsaid…”

“About your father?”

Cassandra nodded. “They mentioned him briefly, his disappearance and his role in working with the various reagents needed to produce an antidote. This expert, this Richards fellow whoever he was, shared a look with Dr. Pym at one point when his name came up. They looked at each other, and then at the doctor’s wife.”

“Pardon my confusion…why would that in and of itself be suspicious?” Katherine was certain she must’ve missed something.

“It was the nature of her malady, I believe.”

“And that would be?”

“She had grown…” Cassandra took a deep breath and let it out, “wee.”

“Wee?”

“Yes, small. Not unlike a pixie.” Cassandra seemed to grate the last words out of clenched teeth, completely aware of how it must sound. 

Kate barely contained a shocked laugh. 

“Do NOT mock me! I’ve lived wit…”

Katherine cut her off, while doing her best to regain her composure. “I apologize.” A fairy wife? There were stranger things in the world, but she could not think of them.

After a moment, Cassandra forced herself to continue, “I think my father suffered the same fate. I think whatever Mrs. Pym was exposed to, my father discovered it in that laboratory. Perhaps its vessel was damaged, or he disturbed it going through the wreckage. But my father did not vanish and leave me with these strangers.”

“You think…he what, shrank?”

“Yes, precisely! I think somewhere in that laboratory, my father is trapped, in miniature. And I intend to help him!”

Kate grasped the story in hand and followed it to its inevitable conclusion. “So you snuck away when they weren’t looking and found the nearest ship headed for the New World, to find this other expert.” 

“Yes!” Cassandra exclaimed, “I don’t trust the Pyms. He keeps droning on and on about atoning for his transgressions and I fear by the time he remembers me and my father it would be too late, if he would even bother at all! Who knows what perils might await someone at the size my father is?”

Kate pursed her lips in thought. The story was preposterous. There were so many elements that were barely held together with the finest of threads. And yet. She could see the fire in the girl’s eyes. She believed this. Regardless of the truth of the matter, this young women fled in the dark of night and attempted a oceanic voyage in secret to track down someone she’d never met, that was not expecting her, in the off chance that it might reconcile her with her father. She loved her family, of course, but Kate couldn’t imagine going to those lengths for them. Perhaps when she was a child. Perhaps. In fact, she couldn’t think of a single thing that she’d fight this strongly for, outside of her own sovereignty. Not even William.

“I’m going to help you,” Kate nodded.

“You can’t! What will they do with me, toss me—pardon me?”

“I’m going to help you. I can’t say your story is the most believable thing I’ve ever heard, but I believe you believe it. And as my father’s company gathered both the colonists and the majority of the cargo on this ship, I don’t think there’s much Captain Marek can do about it if I decide I want to add you to the lists of colonists. Just follow my lead.”

“Pardon me?” repeated Cassandra, clearly in shock.

“Berty, you can come out now,” Katherine said with a wry grin that broke into the shape of a crooked smile as she crossed her arms about her chest. “We’ll have to deal with Marek and worse, Ambrose, but I’ll protect your foundling.”

Bertrand entered the room, his shoulders hunched low in embarrassment and his wide sideburns covering most of his blush at having been caught in his subterfuge. “I knew the cleanest way to get you to discover Ms. Cassandra was to tell you to not explore down here. But it wasn’t I who discovered her. It was James.”

“That doesn’t surprise me. That dreamer probably felt like he walking into the middle of a fairy tale. And there is nothing about this hold that is clean, Bertrand,” Katherine responded in a crisp, firm tone before the laughter she’d been holding down finally erupted in a guffaw. Bertrand smiled in kind while Cassandra’s face looked more confused by the moment.

“Summon the captain and Mathieu, _Berty_. Might as well add Prince Charming as well. It’s time to bring our runaway up into the light. This is going to be _fun_!”  



	4. A Pact is Made

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not So Good at Boats

**Act IV: A Pact is Made**

The two young women sat in relative silence for several minutes waiting for Bertrand to return. When he did, he had Captain Marek, James, and Mathieu in tow. The Captain had a scowl on his face, displeased at having his current business disrupted. Old enough to be an age with her father, with the same piercing look to his blue eyes that reminded Cassandra of when her father was close to some crucial breakthrough in his work. Unfortunately, with his rather bushy facial hair, Captain Marek’s face puffed out when he made such a face of disapproval in the manner of a chipmunk. Between that, the spill of hair the fell from his sleeves and neckline despite a rather firm fit, and the rather heavier set of the man, he looked more like a slightly cross teddy bear than a man who could toss a young woman into the sea. Despite herself, Cassandra’s smile wasn’t one of mere introduction.

“Well, Bertrand, what was so important here in the hold that you felt the need I needed to—”

The captain stopped dead as he entered the hold and spotted who was waiting for him. He shot Bertrand a warning with an arch of one of his overly large brows, ungrateful for the ambush. “Hello, Ms. Bishop.”

“Captain Marek. This is my dear friend Cassandra Lang. I’m afraid we neglected to mention that she would be attending me during our voyage.” 

Katherine turned to the shaggy haired man who accompanied the captain, his slouched, massive shoulders and downward gaze doing little to hide his presence, “You’ve already met James, or so I’ve heard.” 

Gesturing to the wiry, lithe figure behind the wide, muscular midshipman, she introduced, “The blond fellow to his left is Mattieu. Ignore his perfect jawline and gentle smile. He’s a wolf in sheep’s clothing.”

“I don’t recall her coming aboard with you, Katherine,” The captain reproved, seemingly impatient with their banter. Bertrand attempted to side-step his way out the room silently, thwarted when he slammed his right foot against a barrel just as Kate had minutes before. He hurried up the stairs.

“Well, Captain,” Katherine said in a haughtier air to regain his attention, accenting his title in a clipped, odd way as she tried to come across as officious, some odd accent coming to the foreground that Cassandra hadn’t quite picked up in their earlier conversation. Cassandra’s attention wavered back to the ongoing discussion. “She came aboard with one of the family of colonists. I had ordered her to remain discreet. Her family and my father have a…tenuous…business arrangement. We didn’t wish it to be common knowledge that she would be representing their interests in the matter at hand.”

“This girl is here to sign a contract with your father?” scoffed Marek. “She seems a tad…young to be placed in charge for something so substantial, especially considering the crossing she is making in order to ratify the agreement.”

“Do you doubt my sworn word, captain?” That accent was getting thicker, and Cassandra held the smile off her face as she watched Katherine stretch out her posture for every portion of an inch she could muster to stand tall against the bearded giant of a captain. “Or need I remind you what young Mr. Ambrose experienced when he doubted both my sincerity and commitment when we first met?” 

Cassandra watched as all of the blood drained quickly out of Mathieu and James’ faces. Clearly whoever this Ambrose was, he did not end up well in the previous exchange. Or, more troubling, perhaps they were blanching in fear of the Captain’s response to being berated by a young woman, despite her affluence, half his age. And on his own ship, to add insult to injury. If they’d been alone, she would’ve ferreted the tale out of James. The man could be quite talkative with proper encouragement. She blushed a tad, as she accidentally caught his eye. Was there a smile trembling on his face? This was not helping matters.

“Clearly her father is good for the money, Captain,” Mathieu offered. “If this is a ruse on Ms. Bishop’s part, he’d still be willing to pay restitution for our trouble. She would be the target of his anger, not her.”

“And what of your inveterate feelings, Mr. Colfort?” argued the Captain, “I fear this young woman—perhaps both of them—bring the potential for calamity. We cannot afford to risk the relationship we’ve built with Mr. Bishop and his associates.”

“Well, Sir, if I may…,”James stuttered to a stop.

“It was Katherine that brought us to her father’s attention, I believe Midshipman Keller was trying to say,” Mathieu jumped in, saving the struggling man. “Without her, none of the relationships you worry would be at risk would even exist. And as for my feelings…” He studied both women for a moment. “Nothing untoward, sir. And bad luck to us all should we throw a maid to the sea. Any storms on the horizon won’t come from showing a little kindness, here.”

Marek turned to face the women with a glare and, after a moment, granted,”Of course we wouldn’t throw a helpless young woman into the deep, dark ocean,” pausing for effect before continuing, “though obviously recompense will be in order. I’ll have to confirm all this with your father once we reach port. Someone must be responsible for her boarding fee, her share of the foodstuff during the voyage, and I’m not sure that we have another room available.”

“That’s entirely acceptable, Captain,” heaved Katherine, her obvious relief evident. “I will have a note drawn up for whatever you think is fair upon our arrival in Roanoke. As for her lodging, she will not require a room. I’d hate to have you inconvenience your other passengers. Cassandra will stay with me in my room, if you could find some sort of bedding for her there.”

Cassandra stood there mute through the entire exchange, sharing looks with both Bertrand and James in equal measure. She wished she could’ve reached out to the latter when he’d tried to defend her, but that would’ve only embarrassed him further. James Keller was a bit of conundrum. His wide frame and hulking muscularity was almost completely contrary to his nature. His shaggy hair hid his eyes as much as his silence hid his opinions. While other men of his station would gossip about their lives back home or their adventures with their conquests at port, James would instead be near the water, staring at the sky and writing poetry by gaslight. Though his penmanship was atrocious, Cassandra had found. Deciphering his scrawl had been one of her few pastimes over the last several days in seclusion. Her joy in discovering that her diffident savior had a modicum of talent had surprised her as much as his most recent work—which seemed to paint her in a more than flattering light.

“I’m sure we could find something amenable,” the Captain replied, taken aback a bit by Katherine’s gracious response.

Convinced that the matter was now resolved, Mathieu gave a half bow and managed to extricate himself from the crowded hold entrance with his customary grace. 

Emerging into the gaslit room moments later, Betrand responded, “I’ll see to it myself, Ms. Bishop. Was there anything else?”

“There is not, though I appreciate your understanding in this matter, both of you,” Katherine enthused as she graced both Bertrand and the Captain with her most genuine smile. James continued to hang back, doing his best to fade into the woodwork.

“Well, yes then. Betrand, see to the ladies’ needs. I’m afraid watch is about to change and I need to be certain Bosun Keller is on top of things. Good day, Ms. Bishop, Ms. Lang.”

“Good day, Captain,” Cassandra curtsied. Katherine however reached out a hand, which the Captain took and released rather than shook. Katherine schooled the smile on her face to remain though there was tension on the rest of her face as the captain exited with James in tow.

As Katherine muttered to herself that the Captain was a tough nut to crack, Cassandra took a moment to let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding in. Turning, she reached out and embraced Bertrand fiercely, a fine trace of tears leaking out the corner of her eyes.

“I don’t know how I can repay you,” Cassandra started.

“Oh, I have some ideas,” Bertrand chuckled. “For starters, you’ll be assisting me in the kitchen. You’ll work off a portion of your fee from Ms. Bishop that way. It will also help you ingratiate yourself with the rest of these discrepant fools. It’ll be several weeks yet until we arrive in the New World. Best to land with your best foot forward.”

Cassandra nodded her acquiescence and turned to look at Katherine. “I don’t know why you agreed to help me, but I’m not one to ignore good fortune when it comes my way. We should be friends, I think. I’d like us to be.”

“We ought to be,” Katherine agreed, “since we’ll be sharing quarters. Speaking of, let me show you to our room. You can get cleaned up and perhaps we can get to know each other a bit better. I may even have something that fits you in one of my trunks.”

The steward held the door for the two ladies as they climbed upwards to the main deck. Bertrand wasn’t sure what it was about Katherine Bishop. He kept a tidy ship, guarded its ledger with an iron hand and its workings with an iron rod. He demanded order and proper structure not only because it was efficient, but because he found he flourished when things followed the mathematical precision he ascribed to his position, and indeed his life overall. This young woman could throw that into the air by merely stepping into a room, whirling about the ensuing calamity as if it was an elaborate dance rather than the chaos it was. She thrived on upsetting expectations, but never for naught. It was an ordered chaos, he decided. Perhaps that’s why he was drawn to her as he was. Chaos, but merely to hide a vision and a will as determined as his own. He smiled as he followed the two young women out of the bowels of the ship, leaving the barrels and cargo once again to the dark and the dust. He’d send someone down to tend to the latter, later.

Upon stepping out onto the foredeck, Cassandra reeled at being out in open daylight for the first time in days. She took in the men stationed about the ship, and the smell of the sea as it crashed against its sides. Dear god, but the ocean! There was something hideously dwarfing about being surrounded by all that water, as if it went on forever and she and the _Valkeryie_ itself could vanish in its vast expanse with no mark or comment made. It made her slightly sick to think of it. She jumped when an unfamiliar deep, male voice emerged just behind her. 

“You’re looking a little green. Is this your first time at sea, Miss?”

“Lang,” Cassandra curtsied, ”and yes, I suppose it is.” 

The man just nodded at Katherine, who responded in kind. Cassandra marveled. Did the woman have the entire crew cowed? 

“It can take some like that,” the man said with a sorrowful, ingratiating smile that seemed to reach his eyes, “Best you can do is persevere, and hope it fades with time.”

“Thank you…” trailed off Cassandra.

“Johnathon. Johnathon Keller, bosun. At your service, my lady. I believe you are already familiar with my brother, James.”

“Another time, Johnathon,” Kate said shortly, directing his gaze further back onto the deck, her eyes having found a man who seemed entirely too interested in what was passing between them. “I don’t wish to cause you or your brother any more trouble than you’ll undoubtedly be in, due to my friend here.”

Johnathon gave her a puzzled expression, though nodded when he saw the subject of her glare. “These days, Christopher doesn’t need much excuse to take out his ire on anyone.”

“What’s happened?”

“I’ll keep it short, as we should both heed your warning. Several weeks back, First Mate Ambrose and Mat got into it quite rough. Chris wanted Mat to take a turn elsewhere, but you know how he is about being up top. Sea folk can be a superstitious lot. Mat had one of his feelings all morning, and he was sure if he didn’t stay up top to man the rigging and keep watch something was going to get missed. Chris tried to frame it all as equal division of labor. And true, as First Mate, Mat ought to have bowed his head. But you know Mathieu, he sometimes just spoils for a fight—especially when he feels he’s on the side of the angels. Threw a few choice words at Ambrose and they ended up stopping just shy of throwing punches before Marek got involved. Captain sided with Mat. Good thing too, as not even two hours later we hit a rogue current, and would’ve taken us way off course. Was a flash storm later that afternoon, too. Ever since, Chris works doubly hard to make sure rest of us know he’s in charge.”

“A difficult situation for you all to be in,” Kate said as she passed a sympathetic look to the officer. “Mr. Ambrose wasn’t the most likable of your ilk at his best.”

“Worse now,” Johnathon said softly, “since he’s started to mutter that Mat is Witchbreed. Says he summoned that storm to prove his point.”

Cassandra gasped, “That’s ridiculous.”

“Course it is. Ladies, I’d head to your rooms for a moment. I greatly fear First Mate Ambrose and I are about to have words. A Pleasure as always, Ms. Bishop. You too, Ms. Lang.” And with that, the well mannered young bosun made a slight bow and strode away to give direction to one of his underlings regarding the need to switch tension on one of the nearest mastheads.

“Likewise,” Katerine murmured disapprovingly, gesturing to Cassandra to follow her as she guided them both to their new temporary home.


	5. To Dine with Fools

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Katherine Bishop and Cassandra Lang find they have far more in common than they originally thought, and a doctor by the name of Aaron Thorne invites them to dinner.
> 
> It doesn't go well.

**_Act V: To Dine with Fools_ **

Moments later the two young women found themselves in their newly shared quarters, with Cassandra behind a dressing screen with a wash bucket as Katherine started going through her trunks for clothes her new comrade could wear. As Cassandra set about scrubbing off several days and untold miles of grime, Katherine settled on several choices for the young woman from her wardrobe. Handing the three outfits over, Katherine was pleased to see that the Cassandra that emerged from behind the dressing screen looked nothing like the dirty drunkard she’d originally stolen her clothes from. Instead, the ecru dress flowed off her shoulders almost perfectly, the scallops of copper about the collar and shoulders accentuated a figure that was not as boyish as it had originally appeared. The white lace ruffles that trailed the elbow-length sleeves framed forearms that seemed pale, but not weak.

“Not that I’m one to judge on appearances,” Kate said smiling, “but you’re definitely going to turn heads now. I think I’d pay to see the expression on poor James’ face if you should just happen to run into him.”

Cassie smiled back. How long had it been since she’d been with another girl her own age? It felt good to be able to talk about normal things, simple things. And glancing in the mirror, she did have to admit the dress fit her quite well. It was well beyond anything she’d owned at home. Thoughts of home, however, only brought back memories of her father. Before Octavius, before the Pyms, before her mother had died. They had been happy once. It seemed a lifetime ago.

Katherine saw the look change in her newfound companion’s eyes. “Listen, I don’t know many ladies of either of our station who would do what you’ve done. To just jump into a boat and sail off into the unknown? It would terrify them. When you arrive in Roanoke, no indentureship, I’ll see to that. You’ll be free to do as you wish! Certainly, track down this expert and gain what aid you can to help your father, if you can. But even if it turns out to be nothing but a ruse, think of the opportunity! You’ll be free to make whatever life for yourself you desire. I envy you that, if not your original circumstance.”

“Me!” Cassandra exclaimed, “you envy _me_? I’ve been dragged from one end of Britain and the continent to the other, sometimes more as an accessory than a person in my own right. I’ve got not a penny to my name until I reach majority, and even then what small fortune may be left will be an ocean away. You, however…you have a family that loves you. A Father.”

“Yes, a father,” Katherine bitterly responded. “A father who will, after extracting whatever scraps of information about the lives and business plans of his rivals from me in excruciating detail, will no doubt attempt to marry me off to whoever industrialist’s son will make him the most money or political gain. It’s a harsh reality that the duplicity and craft I have to engage in to eke out what small happiness I can amidst the plots of my father and his cronies are the very qualities that will make me valuable as a commodity when it comes time to shackle me with a husband of his choice. I’ll be a catch.”

“Then run away!” Cassie exclaimed. “I’m half as strong as you are, I’d swear it, and I’ve done it. The men on this ship don’t bow to you, they shake your hand. Mathieu and Johnathon confide in you as if you are one of their bosom companions, and I doubt you experience their company often. These people don’t do that because of your father’s money—at least, not all of them do. You walk into a room and it’s as if everyone snaps to attention. You are the most brazen, relentless, resilient woman I’ve ever met—and since they don’t know quite how to deal with you, they do they only thing they can: they treat you like a man. Like a friend.”

Kate sat on her cot slackjawed. “Well, Cassie, that was quite a speech.”

“On par with yours, I’d wager” Cassie rejoined, noticing Katherine’s casual insertion of the shortened form of her name.

Both of them slowly grinned at the other as Cassandra came to stand in front of Katherine, reaching out with both hands to help her off the bed. Once up, Katherine clasped both arms below the elbow, still smiling, and said, “I think you should call me Kate. My family does, at least when we’re not in public.”

“Well, Kate, my heartfelt appreciation for letting me borrow this dress”

“Nonesense, Cassie,” Kate smiled, choking down her mirth,”it looks better on you, in any event. Keep it.”

Before both could burst into the laughter that came with the dissolution of the tension of the day, a firm knocking occurred on the chamber door. When Kate detached herself from Cassie’s grasp and opened the door, a shipman she couldn’t identify by face stood on the other side of the threshold holding a missive of some sort in his hands.

“Pardon for disturbing you, my Lady. ‘Ve a letter here from Dr. Thorne he wanted me to deliver right away,” the man said as he handed over a perfect piece of stationary, sealed with wax and a signet mark.

“Fear not, you were disturbing nothing,” Kate said, that same strange accent overtaking her speech. Cassie wondered if it only came out when she was upset. Or angry. She watched as Kate broke the wax seal and opened the letter before heaving a huge sigh that forced her bosom to shift under the purple and cream dress in a way that clearly caught the man’s attention. 

“What is it, Katherine?” Cassie asked, hoping to avoid some sort of conflict.

Kate’s smile seemed forced as she said, “Dr. Thorne would like to us to join him for supper this evening. Isn’t that charming?” Kate couldn’t keep the scathing tone out of her voice. “I suppose it was inevitable.” 

She turned to the shipman, still standing outside the room awaiting an answer. “Tell the charming doctor we’ll be happy dine with him this evening. We eagerly look forward to sharing his company.” And then promptly slammed the door in the poor man’s face.

Several hours later, both women found themselves being ushered into the good doctor’s quarters, a rickety table from the galley had been brought up to accomodate the evening’s festivities along with three chairs of equal provenance. Dr. Thorne reached out his hand as Kate entered and made a show of bowing and kissing hers when it was reluctantly extended. Cassie tried her best not to look amused as she watched Kate school her features to keep the look of disgust from her face and her perfect smile intact.

“It’s a genuine pleasure to dine with you, Ms. Bishop, and your companion as well,” smiled the doctor as he turned to face Cassie. “Forgive my ignorance, but I didn’t catch your name when you boarded our humble ship?”

“Cassandra Lang, good sir,” Cassie said effortlessly, trying to match Kate’s grace. She took in the appearance of the man. He stood as tall as his doorframe, his posture near impeccable as he greeted them. His wide mouth was surrounded by lips that were perfect in proportion, matching a brow that crowned gentle-seeming eyes of an earthen hue. His slightly sunken cheek bones further elongated a face that ended in a narrow but jutting chin. Overall, it was a pleasant face—one that appeared even more pleased at the leisurely pace of Cassandra’s attention.

“A pleasure, Ms. Lang,” Thorne said as he reached over and bowed perhaps more then he ought and kissed Cassie’s hand, “I am Doctor Aaron Thorne, in service to King James, long may he reign.” He held that hand too long for her liking, though in actuality it was probably merely seconds. Something felt altogether off in his presence. He had held her hand but a moment but already felt a strong desire to bathe. As she extracted herself she took a moment to take in the greater scope of her surroundings. 

Although Kate’s father had financed the larger portion of this journey, it was clear Thorne had the superior quarters. Tapestries of indigo and gold so large they almost met in the corner were draped across two of the walls, both depicting what she assumed was the crest of his house. Adjacent to the opposing wall sat a large, dark wooden easel supporting a heavily gilded mirror. The final wall housed several small bookshelves and a small wine rack to store the doctor’s private collection of rare vintages. Two windows framed the door in which they entered, and thin gauzy curtains eschewed views from outside. Overall, the room suited the man. His jacket was impeccably tailored, composed of the same hue as the tapestries on the walls. His trousers looked as if they were freshly pressed, despite already having dwelled on the ship with them for several days. Everything about the man was just so, if by just so one meant designed to dwarf everyone in his presence. The only thing at odds was a musty smell that permeated the space, like the smell of the root cellar her father had used to store some of his more temperature sensitive reagents. The doctor’s bed was nowhere to be seen—a fact she was altogether thankful for. Thorne gestured to two of the waiting chairs and they all sat, with Thorne taking the time to push both ladies’ chairs a serviceable distance from the table to enjoy that followed.

“So if I may inquire, how did you two ladies meet?”

“Lord Bereford had invited me to attend one of his archery contests in his summer salon, and I met Cassandra’s acquaintance in his company. Her father was there on behalf of his employer, who was proposing an expedition of sorts.” 

As Katherine was talking, Thorne took a moment to rise and step aside a moment. A galleyman, who had obviously been waiting outside, walked brisquely by the open door soon after his return. Apparently, supper was on its way.

“And I assume you won the contest, of course. In fact, I’ve yet to hear of a single club that managed to survive both your acuity and your beauty.”

“You charm me, sir. Though you are correct in this one instance. I won the day, and Cassandra and I have kept in correspondence ever since.” 

“And I assume her father and his employer’s expedition must be a lucrative one, or else why would her parents allow her travel such treacherous waters unaccompanied?”

“She is not unaccompanied, doctor. She is with me,” Kate bit back, with a tad more steel in her tone than she had desired. Regardless of how she felt about the man, her father would need to make of the man as much of an ally as he could—especially if the rumors were true regarding his relationship with the ill-fated King.

“I apologize, I didn’t mean to offend,” the doctor said, raising his hands in a token of acquiescence. “I look forward to meeting your father, actually, Ms. Bishop. We have yet to have the pleasure. I’ve met several of the other standard-bearers of your community in their travels, of course. Mr. Banner, for one. A tragedy what became of him. And the Kesslers, of course. I believe you and their eldest boy are of an age?”

“We are.”

“I thought so. John seemed a nice enough lad when I met him several years back. His father and I have stayed in quite close touch since. I am eager to renew their acquaintance in person,” said Thorne as a knock sounded upon the cabin door. 

“I’m sure,” Kate responded blandly as footsteps sounded loudly outside and Thorne rose to open the door and let in what she hoped was a meal worth this torture. The galleyman entered with his bounty--a thick wooden bowl that was clearly very warm. The man has moisture all over his face from the condensing steam wafting from the uncovered vessel. 

“In fact, it was both Mr. Kessler and Mr. Jameson that suggested my new post to the King. Given the sort that you folks are forced to engage with on a daily basis, I look forward to doing what I can to help,” the doctor said as he helped the galleyman place their meal on the table. The weight of it caused the table to shift from one mis-sized leg to another. Thorne shifted it towards the center of the table and allowed the crewman to exit as quickly as he had come.

“The sort of…” Cassandra started to say, but was cut off as Thorne continued.

“Yes, I’m sure you’re aware. King James has no love lost for the Witchbreed, or those fools who dabble in the arcane and their mystic attachments. Especially after the Banner affair. I wasn’t present at the travesty made of his execution, but the King is more insistent than ever that we do what we can to lead those astray back into the light of civilization and natural order.” He gathered the shallow bowls from in front of both women and began doling out what appeared to be a stew of some kind. “I’ve had significant success in rehabilitating the like of those who dwell under the devil’s aegis, both those who chose such a path and those who found such egregious aberrations foisted upon them.”

“I wonder how many of my fellow colonists will appreciate the attitude you’ve espoused, Dr. Thorne,” posited Kate as she tapped one of her nails against her cheek. “While those that dwell at Dr. Javier’s school,” Cassie noticed the emphasis on the word _doctor_ as Kate spoke in that formal, clipped accent, ”don’t live amongst us inside the colony’s walls, they do have strong ties to its history and its success.” 

“I’m sure, I’m sure. But—” Thorne tried to interject, but Kate’s passion was uninterruptible.

“And there are several strong voices, or at least there were upon my last correspondence with from prominent families within the colony, that are suggesting that the Witchbreed and their enclosure be welcomed into the growing community. In fact, I received the latest missive merely a month prior to our departure. The division between the two may not be as wide as you, or the King, may expect.”

The doctor clucked between his teeth, as he spooned out yet more of the stew from the bowl in the center of the table. “I’m afraid the King won’t stand for it. The bedeviled and bewitched have no place in governance, and such a threat needs to be contained before it can be cured.” He slowly placed each bowl in front of the women before sitting down again himself.

“Cured? You believe you have it in you to cure the Witchbreed, or those afflicted by the strangeness of what has followed?” Cassie couldn’t help but interject her incredulity. The man made her uncomfortable, but if he truly could aid her in her quest to find and save her father, she would be willing to overlook the man’s perceived shortcomings.

“Yes, please, doctor,” Kate said sweetly, “Do tell of your successes. How have you cured these poor unfortunates of their afflictions?” She brought some of the stew to her lips and gave it a cursory taste. The thick broth was heavy with barley, carrots, potato, turnip and beef, all surprisingly well seasoned. As the doctor went on, he brought out some flat-bread and butter to help them mop up what might be left of their meal at its end. 

As the doctor began to expound upon his successes Cassandra did her best to appear attentive, but the meal had garnered the majority of her attention. This was better than the porridge Bertrand had been sneaking her for the past several days. Infinitely so.

“I’m sure it will come as no shock to either of you to discover that too many of the mad are of noble blood,” Thorne granted them. “It is the balance of the humours in such folk, their strong melancholic tendencies that lead them to despair and eventual desperation—and the Adversary does like his victims desperate. I’ll tell you of my experiences with the Braddock family. I can see from your faces that you’re familiar with the name. Despite their close proximity to the throne, even they were not immune from the encroachment of this madness. Their youngest, Jamie, was the first to fall victim. He was only seven years of age when he began to exhibit a disturbing obsession with his hobbyhorse. He began to weep and cry at the top of his lungs if it was out of his sight for even a few moments. Seeing to affairs of state, it was impossible for the family to constantly have the hobbyhorse on hand. It was an untenable situation. So upon the occasion of the Queen’s last birthday, the Braddocks were to host one of the most prominent parties of the season…”

“They had other children, didn’t they?” Cassandra interjected as she continued to devour the meal placed before her. Out of the corner of her eye she saw that Kate seemed to hang on every word the man said, unaware of just how undaintily she was eating their repast as well. 

“Yes, of course,” answered the doctor, pleased he’d found a suddenly more receptive audience. “Jamie had an older sister, Betsy, and an older brother, Brian. You can imagine the potential embarrassment of such a noble house, so close to the throne, having not just one, but _two_ Witchbreed children! But I’ll get to the daughter in a moment. Jamie, as I said, was the first to openly exhibit signs of the demonic influence that grew to infect his sibling. Mere hours before their guests were to arrive, Jamie was sitting happily petting the mane of his hobbyhorse when Betsy shrieked. Naturally, the nanny rushed over and saw small lights, bright as stars, dancing around the child’s beloved toy. When they faded just a few minutes later, it was no longer a toy but rather a childlike caricature of a miniature pony. A _living_ pony.” 

Both young women gasped. Kate had plenty of experience with the Witchbreed, her friends Roberto and Werner were of that persuasion, but she had never heard of such a talent. In the hands of a child, no less! She’d have been terrified as well.

“What happened?” asked Kate, her curiosity winning over her trepidation.

“Why, the monstrosity died moments later, of course. The father had heard me speak of my work with some of the afflicted on the continent in a salon just a week earlier and I was summoned with extreme haste. It was while I was conferring with the parents that the sister also fell prey to the traps of the devil. She rushed into the room, using language I’d used mere moments before. In fact, she proceeded to answer all of us in the room before we could even vocalize what we were thinking. She grew hysterical, complaining about the noise in her head that wouldn’t stop. Their father was especially troubled. Two Witchbreed children, and one of them seemed to be able to see into the thoughts of others. The thought terrified him. What affairs of state might be untimely exposed by the young girl, should her behavior be allowed to continue? It was clear to me that demonic forces had allied themselves against the Braddocks, for what reason only God knows. With a brief explanation as to my methods to subdue the mother’s concern, I was allowed to take both children with me to my offices, where I began the work of saving their souls.”

“So what did you do? Kate asked, despite herself.

“You must understand that these were some of my earliest successes. Much of my later treatments were based on what I learned by treating those poor children. We started out with simple conversation, and followed shortly afterwards with an attempt to drive the spirits out in the name of Our Lord and Savior. This went on for several days, wherein we tried to use diet and the withholding of food to attempt to bring the bodily humours back into balance. When that failed, however, I brought them to a tall room on my office’s second floor and strapped them tightly to an armchair in the center of the room. I then raised them several feet about the ground. The device was then spun, as both myself and a compassionate Spanish priest who was a friend of the family attempted an exorcism. We repeated this process several times over the next week, the children alternating between tantrums that lasted for hours and a blank silence that was far more menacing. On the last day, when they eventually lapsed into unconsciousness as the chair slowed its spin, I began a carefully diagramed system of bloodletting and the use of leeches along key energy meridians, identified centuries ago in the East to aid in the balance of humours and allow the natural life force of the body to flow unimpeded.”

“That did nothing to stop Jamie, however, who detested the feel of the leeches even in his slumber. Several simply vanished from his skin as we watched. Eventually I determined which meridians were affected by the demonic attack, its nefarious energies changing the natural pathways of the soul and its vessel. Once I discovered that, it was simply a matter of following those lines until they met in the brain and then trepanning the intersecting points.”

“And did this lead to your success?” Kate withheld her distaste as she urged the doctor on.

“Indeed it did. Jamie Braddock has not had a single episode such as he exhibited in his nursery in at least 5 years. He’s grown up healthy, strong, and a worthy successor to his father.”

“What about Betsy, his sister?” Cassie asked hopefully

“Sadly, she was a different case entirely. We changed her diet to little but salad greens, barley water, and milk. I used every means at my disposal to try to convince the girl to return to rationality, and needed to administer several sedatives just to allow her a few hours rest. I routinely had her purge her system with the aid of tobacco I had acquired from your father’s firm, actually, Katherine. The most potent on the market, at the time, though it was ultimately of no avail. I spent months attempting to find the same sort of demonic energy in her that I had in her brother, but to no avail. I had read of a doctor with similar interests to my own who’d tried a creative use of immersive therapy in Germany, and so I corresponded with him as to Betsy’s symptoms and my own attempts at treatment. We eventually designed a small tank that we placed the girl in and filled it with the coldest water we could find in hopes of shocking her system back into alignment. My third attempt at using the tank finally yielded the poor, suffering child results. She stopped complaining about the cacophony of voices that screamed inside her head; in fact, she stopped speaking at all for a considerable amount of time. When she finally seemed to regain her faculties, she had unfortunately regressed.”

“She speaks now, of course, but it is as if she has the limited vocabulary of her younger brother and an even more juvenile comprehension. Our spiritual battle against the forces that had plagued her gave her the unexpected gift of grace, wiping the years of temptation and those final days of horror from her memory completely.”

Cassandra withered in her seat in horror, while Katherine let the silence lay thick as the doctor finished. She had thought to merely call his bluff, but this was something different altogether. Monstrous. She found her appetite was failing.

“I look forward to aiding your colony, Katherine,” Thorne continued, assuming their silence meant they had been suitably cowed. “Too many have, as you’ve said, begun to think of Roanoke as some gentrified Utopia in which the bewitched and humanity share equally. But in such a world, those who have made such unwholesome pacts for power or are victims of such will always usurp the rule of the just.”

“That hasn’t happened yet, I might point out,” Kate said softly, attempting to return to the more meek persona she’d worn when she’d first entered his cabin.

“Are you aware Javier is actively recruiting his fellows from the continent to join him?” the doctor queried. When he didn’t receive a response, he continued, “No, I thought not. Few do. It won’t be long before his numbers are greater than his keep can support and they will have no choice but to annex more territory. They will breed, of course, and their numbers will dwarf yours in just a handful of years. They also have a peaceful relationship with the native tribes, I believe. Alliances will be made and your parents--your families--control the only coastline within reasonable distance.”

As if on cue, a galleyman appeared yet again at the door, this time with what appeared to be a rather dense looking spice cake to enjoy after the lavish repast. That wasn’t sarcastic—Kate had ridden the Atlantic before and knew how rare it was to have fresh vegetables and meat that wasn’t near pickled in salt, seasoned with spices parsed out so sparingly that they might last the full six week voyage. Doctor Thorne had spared little expense to make a favorable impression with her, and then proceeded to turn that on its head with his speech. It made the entire situation terribly hard to read. The doctor shook his head sadly and reached for the spice cake, cutting a small piece and laying it on a plate before each of the young women. “Sadly, it is ingrained in them from birth.”

“Pardon me?” Kate was obviously taken aback. She hadn’t expected the man to unburden himself in such a manner. She had expected an evening filled with empty pleasantries and the usual attempts to win her favor so that she might speak benevolently on his behalf to her father. Thorne seemed almost uninterested in her family and the influence it wielded in Virginia. The man seemed to be boastful, of all things. Looking across the table, she saw that Cassie had shrunk in on herself. She felt poorly that their first meal together was tainted with this man’s vitriol, but she was glad for the company. She wasn’t sure she would’ve been able to keep her composure if she had been alone in the man’s presence. 

Realizing she had stopped listening for a moment, Kate gathered her wits as the doctor continued, “Their need for dominance is as strong as their need for subterfuge.” The man’s passion filled his eyes, and he licked the cake’s small crumbs off his lips as he fervency grew yet stronger. “So many hide amongst us, only to reveal themselves when exposed or to achieve advantage. Unlike New Amsterdam, of course.” 

Thorne paused to regroup his faculties, and Kate knew she had been far more transparent than she had desired. This so-called ‘doctor of the mind’ wasn’t just an agent of the crown, he was a zealot with wide and far-reaching plans of his own. She would have to warn Werner and Roberto the second she set foot in town, even before she spoke to her father. She doubted this man would wait even that long. He was revealing all of this because he sensed his victory was an already drawn conclusion in the eyes of his God. In his mind, Kate, regardless of her father, could do little to stop or even hinder it.

“The colony on the island of Manhattan, founded not soon after the initial Roanoke colony, has recently fallen under the sway of a charismatic leader that is drawing as many Witchbreed, perhaps more, than Javier’s school and territory to the west of Roanoke possesses. Most of the uninfected colonists have fled, as this enigmatic man has made it plain that he intends the colony to be a Promised Land of sorts—but for Witchbreed only. He has all but declared himself a sovereign state! Humanity, for all its God-given place in the firmament and its moral core, is not welcome. With such a dangerous precedent being established, of course the King (long may he live) thought someone should be in Virginia to secure his interests and support the rule of law. The King’s law.”

“You sound more a barrister than a doctor,” Cassandra noted out of curiosity.

“I have spent many a year in service to those whose jobs it was to ensure public order. I merely repeat what their experience has taught them, and what I’ve come to learn myself within their company,” Thorne said as he rested back into his chair, slouching slightly in the satisfaction of having rested his case.

Unwilling to let it go, however, Kate responded in a calm, reasoned tone that had only a hint of her sharp accent, “Anarchy serves no one, Dr. Thorne. Only a fool would agree otherwise. The King receives his taxes, and the colony of Virginia prospers under the charter that was delivered and sealed by the King’s own hand not all that long ago. Perhaps, given the distances involved, both his agents and his wisdom should heed the lesson of history.”

The doctor sat straight in his seat. “Why, the impudence of…the natural order of the kingdom, of the world, must be preserved. The strangeness that followed in the wake of the founding of Roanoke has tainted this world, tempted the best of men with the Adversary’s own works. What men would we be if we did not seek to help those with weaker constitutions? What does that say about King James, that he recognizes his moral, nay, his spiritual imperative to aid all his subjects no matter how far-flung they may be?”

“The last time the King sent his officers to Virginia to quell the ‘spiritual threat’, all but one decided to remain in Virginia under the laws of the town charter. The one that returned was ‘infected’ by the strangeness of our land, and ultimately was revealed to be Witchbreed himself. The King, god rest his soul, barely survived Banner’s attempted execution.” Cassie noted the strong emphasis, the pride in that word _our_. Was Katherine seriously attempt to bate an officer of the Crown? There was a thin line between bravery and folly, and not for the first time she wondered if her newfound friend ever knew which side of that line she walked.

“King James knows the risk of this infection spreading throughout Britain, or worse, the continent,” rebutted Thorne through a tightened jaw. “Imagine Spain with its armada staffed by sailors in service, albeit subtly so, to the Devil. A France with a demonic pact guaranteeing empire, foisting its decadence on its conquered states. An Italy, whose Catholics fuel their curses with the wrath of the damned. England itself, split in twain as its own citizens become victim of the basest impulses of human nature.”

“You speak in such grandiose terms, Doctor Thorne, but all this is a matter of conjecture. The Witchbreed, and others who have experienced the mysteries that God himself has allowed into our world, have never attempted such a thing. Those I have met simply desire to live as we live, to follow in the footsteps of their faith and their civic duty alongside those of us who are not similarly affected, in hopes that we may all learn compassion, and tolerance.”

“An easy claim to make as they attempt to climb the ladder of creation. Babel fell for such ambition. The deadliest of sins is to allow and make use of the devil’s manipulations, even in pursuit of what is perceived to be the public good. No such power or advantage is worth the cost of a man’s soul—and that’s all a community is. A collection of souls bound together with human decency and humility before their God, abiding by shared law.”

“Whatever happened to Banner, anyways?” Kate pursed her lips.

Cassie knew Kate had scored a potent victory as the blood drained from the doctor’s face, leaving it almost ashen in hue.

“I only ask, because the talk of the salons this summer was how King James had rendered both his summer residences into fortresses, almost impregnable. I hope, as do all law-abiding citizens of Britain, that his authority can extend from those fortresses across the land. He is our regnant, after all. But can it reach all the way across an ocean? Virginia is very, very different than what he thinks. I fear he, and yourself, may be in for some surprises.” 

The doctor sat there, back perfectly straight, his eyes as if they looked beyond the room in which that sat and instead onto some faraway horror. The pallor slowly returned to his cheeks, and he turned to look at Katherine, eyes like that of a falcon before it descended on its prey.

The uncomfortable silence was broken as Cassie slid her chair away from the table, the loud grating of wood on wood seemingly breaking the spell that had caught up her other two dining companions. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but I fear sea travel just isn’t agreeing with me as I hoped it would. Would you terribly mind if we departed at this early point, and thus perhaps spare me my dignity?”

The smiling, gracious host was once again back, as he stood and helped Kate out of her chair. Whatever conflict there might’ve been between the two just moments before had apparently disappeared as if it had never occurred. “Of course, of course. Pardon our lively debate. This is your first time at sea, as I’d heard, and you’ve yet to get what the yeoman call their sea legs. I’m afraid Ms. Bishop and I consumed the entirety of the conversation at your expense. I’m sure we’ll have a chance to get better acquainted over the voyage.” 

All three made the most of the pleasantries of parting, the doctor taking their hands briefly in farewell as they made their way through his threshold and once again onto the deck of the ship. They then made their way back to their shared room, both equally determined to get to their small bastion of safety before uttering any comment regarding what had just transpired. 

Once safely behind their door, Cassandra let out a breath loudly. “You do enjoy striking the hornets’ nest, don’t you?”

“The nerve of that man…” Kate’s hand turned to fists as she spoke, “we are going to need to be very careful for the next few weeks, Cassie. That man has an agenda. If he were to find out even a portion of the truth of your reason for journeying to Virginia…I wish William was here.”

“Who’s William?”

Kate’s remorseful grin was accompanied by a shake of her head that caused her dark hair to shake free of the ruffles on her shoulders. “William Kaplan may be the only person I know that can keep me from making an even greater fool of myself, though you did quite well there at the end. The others will have to be warned, too, once we sight land. What was I thinking, attempting to go toe to toe with an agent dispatched by King James personally?”

Cassandra had no answer for that; she had been wondering the same thing since the moment the conflict between the two had erupted. But she greatly feared that the consequences for such defiance would cost them both, and dearly, by the time their voyage reached its end.  



	6. Coda: Signs and Portents

**_Coda: Signs and Portents_ **

_Later that evening, having talked at length about their plans to deal with the precarious situation in which they found themselves, Kate and Cassie both laid down in their shared quarters for the night. High above them, Mathieu Colfort stood alert in his top above the main mast of the _H.M.S. Valkeryie_. His every instinct was silent, but as he looked out over the horizon, he beheld sudden streaks of lightning, streaking jaggedly from cloud to cloud before striking the waters ahead. Above, the moon hung low and almost crimson, casting the forked tongues of flame descending from above in the hue of hellfire…_

_Almost an ocean away, the young man known as William Kaplan slept fitfully in the unbridled heat of the last dregs of the Virginia summer. Sweat coated his body, his raven black hair matted flat against his head, as the cocoon of sheets seemed to draw tighter with each belabored breath. He dreamed of dark skies, and darker waters, and a tower rising above the waves with a single flame resting upon its windowsill. That flame brought safety, but the darkness rose to swallow it, from above and below, with its endless maws of shadow. He cried out as those noiseless snapping jaws sought his flesh, and his screams followed him into the melancholy abyss of night…_

**Author's Note:**

> I ran out of time! I promise I had plans to introduce the entire team (along with some new members) and take them all on their first adventure, but for whatever reason I just couldn't let go of Kate and Cassie, and then the due date was upon me. But I have the rest of the series at least loosely outlined...


End file.
